Kiss of Ice (St. James Family)

by Parker, Lavender

  “I'll call my realtor. You prefer uptown or down?” He reached into his coat and pulled out his phone.

  “Stop it.” She swatted at him. “I don't need your help.”

  “Baby, I think you need all the help you can get,” he said, dropping his head to brush his lips across hers. “I wanna see your bedroom.” She stuck her tongue out and lead the way into the bedroom, her sanctuary. His eyes lit up when he saw the bed.

  “Now this is what I was envisioning when I was on that plane.” He plopped down on the edge of the bed, the down comforter puffing up under him. He hopped a bit, testing the springs. “Let's go back to bed.” He pulled her hand and she tumbled against him with a sigh.

  “You know I can't.” She ran her hands across his broad shoulders. “My sister is waiting for me. I have to throw some shit in a bag and catch a cab pronto.”

  “Give me a kiss and I'll let you go,” he murmured. She smiled and obliged him, dipping her tongue between his teeth. He tasted of mint and coffee, and she almost purred when his tongue danced across hers. She could feel herself melting into him and the thought of catching a later flight crossed her mind as his hands cupped her ass. But the kiss ended and her mind cleared. She stepped away from him, her knees a little weaker. “So what are you getting me for Christmas?” He said, leaning back on his elbow on the bed.

  “I think I've given you enough,” she said, throwing a smile over her shoulder as she unzipped her leather suitcase. She cleared out the dirty clothes from her Paris trip, thinking it strange she was unpacking just to pack again.

  “Can I get you something? Is that allowed?” he asked. She furrowed her brow, wondering what overpriced thing he was thinking of.

  “Like what?” she said, opening her bureau and raiding her panty drawer. His eyebrow raised as she zipped the colorful satin underthings into her suitcase.

  “You'll see.” He looked up through his lashes, his gaze sending a shock through her. There was something he wasn't saying. She bit her lip and decided not to pry. He was practically daring her to, but she decided not to take the bait.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She opened the closet door and pulled out a few dresses and a a couple sweaters. The temperature back in Louisiana would be warm, but colder at night. She wanted to be prepared. “I'm only going to be gone a week. Are you sure you'll have time to find whatever you're looking for?”

  “Maybe I already found it.” He picked up one of the sweaters she tossed into her bag and folded it.

  “I'm still not buying you anything,” she said, heading into the bathroom to pack toiletries. When she returned to the bedroom, she found him at her bureau, looking at the photographs arranged on top. “Those are my parents on their wedding day. And my grandmother's high school yearbook photo,” she said, taking a deep breath. It was weird, having Christophe in her room, learning about her life. He picked up the mother-of-pearl picture frame that contained the photo of her parents.

  “They look so young,” he said.

  “They got married when they were 16 and 17. A shotgun wedding. My mom was four months pregnant with me,” she replied, busying herself with packing.

  “And who are these kids?” he asked. She looked up, smiling. That was one of her favorites. “I know this is you,” he said. She went over to him and pointed.

  “Yes, that's me. I was probably about 15 or so. That's my sister. She was another “oops” baby—she's 14 years younger than me. Then there's my cousins, Holland and Vivica. Holland's 8 years younger than me, and Vivica is 12 years younger. They're my dad's twin brother's kids.” She ran her fingertip over the faded picture, taken on the last family trip before Uncle Richard had died. A fishing trip, to the gulf. The younger kids probably didn't even remember it. “My Uncle Richard died the year after. An accident. After that, everything kind of spiraled for Holland and Vivica. Their mother was—is—a drunk.” She felt Christy's eyes on her, and she looked up to meet them.

  “Little Annie is adorable. I especially love those feathered bangs,” he said with a straight face.

  “And those cut-off shorts! I thought I was the shit.”

  “You're beautiful. Then and now.” He set the picture back on the bureau.

  “Maybe I'll bring back the feathered bangs,” she said, leaning on her suitcase in an attempt to zip it up. “Since you like them so much.”

  “Don't go,” he said, his voice quiet.

  “I have to.” She wrenched the zipper, only getting it closed a few more inches. He stepped over and batted her hand away from the zipper. As he wrestled with it, he gave her a side look.

  “Call me when you get there,” he said.

  “I will.” She rolled her eyes.

  “And then every hour after that,” he said, finally getting the suitcase fully zippered.

  “You're pushing it, Van der Kind,” she said as he set the bag on the floor and pulled out the handle.

  “I'm going to miss you,” he said, brushing a knuckle down her cheek. “Promise when you come back, we'll pick up where we left off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don't go having second thoughts about being my girl while you're gone,” he said. “Now that I have you, I'm not letting you go.”

  “Now that you 'have me'?” she scoffed. “I didn't realize I was something to be had.” He pulled her to him and nuzzled her neck.

  “Don't be so defensive,” he mumbled.

  “Don't be so insecure.” She closed her eyes, as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin of her neck. “I'll miss you, too.” She ran her hand down the inside of his coat, until she reached the growing bulge in his jeans. She bit her lip, fighting the temptation to drop to her knees and give him head that instant. He pressed into her touch, his kisses turning to nipping bites along her jaw.

  “I want to fuck you,” he said, lust straining his voice. “Can I?” She sighed, wanting to say yes, but knowing she needed to get going.

  “I have to go,” she whispered. “But I promise, when I get back, we'll pick up exactly where we left off.” With a frustrated growl, he backed away from her and grabbed her bag before she could.

  “I'll hold you to that,” he said.

  Downstairs, out in the cold, she hailed a cab and Christophe hauled her luggage into the trunk. Not wanting to drag out their goodbye, she hugged him and then slid into the backseat of the cab. As the cabbie drove north, toward Toni's apartment, Annata couldn't stop herself from turning in her seat and looking out the back window. Christophe still stood outside of her apartment, watching her go. She felt her heart jump in her chest. Christophe Van der Kind loved her. He wanted to be with her.

  After years of secretly lusting after him, she still couldn't truly believe it. Settling back in her seat as they turned the corner, the pragmatic side of her pushed to the surface. She wouldn't get her hopes up, she decided. After Christmas, when things settled down, she would see how everything played out. With a nod, she put any feelings she might have for Christophe on the back-burner. She was going to look forward to the holidays with her family, and wait until the new year to get her life in order.

  ***

  “Don't overwork the dough.” Granny's gruff voice cut across the kitchen, and Annata rolled her eyes affectionately. Granny was very particular about some things and one of those things was Christmas Eve dinner. She always made the same dishes—black eyed peas, collard greens, sweet potato pie, and the biggest ham she could get.

  “Yes, Dear, I know,” she said, patting the buttery pie dough on the well-used marble slab.

  “You trying to kill it? It'll be dry as a bone, you keep going at it like that.” Granny shuffled toward her, away from cleaning the collards in the sink. The old lady peered over her Annata's shoulder, her eagle eyes taking in the condition of the pie dough.

  “It's just fine,” Annata protested.

  “You right. You right.” Granny nodded, a smile forming over her lips. She patted Annata's cheek and went back to the collards. Annata smiled and went in search of pla
stic wrap. “Whatchoo looking for?” Granny asked.

  “Plastic wrap. For the dough,” Annata said, digging through a lower cabinet filled with a lifetime's worth of pots and pans.

  “Pantry,” Granny said, her wrinkled hands ripping the stems from the greens expertly. Annata left the kitchen, stepping out onto the enclosed back porch where the pantry was located. She opened the door, her eyes scanning the hundreds of items on the shelves, precariously stacked and packed.

  “I'm going to throw some of this stuff away, Granny!” she called out. “It's a mess out here!”

  “Don't you touch my stuff. I know just where everything is!” Granny called back, her voice carrying above the Nat King Cole that played on the radio.

  “Some of this shit is from the '80s!” Annata called back, laughing, holding up an ancient Crisco can. She wondered with slight concern if her grandma still used it.

  “It's still good! Don't you touch my stuff,” Granny answered. Shaking her head, Annata put it back where she found it. Same old Granny, she thought, smiling. The house was still the same as it had been in her childhood. Mohair sofas, covered in plastic, and heavy peach-colored brocade curtains still decorated the living room. The room where she was staying used to be her father's but Vivica had also taken over the room in the late '90s, when she lived with their grandma for a year. It hadn't changed since then. Boy band posters still hung on the pink walls. Faded dolls and old baseball trophies from the '70s co-mingled in the closet. Her family's history was everywhere she looked. Her parents had sold her childhood home a few years ago, and moved to a condo in the French Quarter, so this was the only real home she had left. And she cherished it.

  In her apron pocket, her phone vibrated against her thigh. A flush of warmth crept up her neck. Before she even looked at the caller ID she knew it was Christy.

  “Hey baby. What are you doing?” his voice filled her ear, sending a tremor down her spine.

  “Nothing much. Listening to Christmas music and helping Granny with dinner,” she said, feeling her voice drop to a whisper. She didn't want Granny to know she was on the phone. She'd never hear the end of it.

  “Sounds heavenly,” he said, and she thought she could hear the clink of a drink on his end.

  “What about you? Is that whiskey?” she asked, spotting the plastic wrap at the very top corner of the pantry.

  “Ha, how did you know? I'm hiding in the Old Man's study. Miranda and her decorator are on the rampage. The party is in two hours and no one can find the table cloths.”

  “Quelle horreur,” Annata said, trying not to laugh at his misfortune. “Why are you there so early?”

  “I couldn't sleep because you weren't next to me,” he said, his voice softer. “I needed a distraction from missing you.”

  “Miranda will surely drive you to distraction,” she said, her heart beating a little faster at his words.

  “Do you miss me?” he asked. Annata turned toward the yard, looking out onto the old willow tree behind the house. The ancient tire swing rocked back and forth in the late afternoon breeze.

  “And what if I did?” she said, softly.

  “Say the word and I'll be there to kiss you on Christmas morning.” She smiled at the tone in his voice. He was telling the truth, she had no doubt.

  “Don't be silly,” she said, imagining waking up to a sweet kiss from Christy, his body pressing hers into the squeaky mattress, and almost laughed out loud. She was sure he'd enjoy Justin Timberlake staring down at them as they fucked on a twin bed.

  “I would do it,” he said.

  “I know.” She pressed her forehead against the warm glass of the window, closing her eyes.

  “I can tell you're having a good time.”

  “I am. It's good to be home,” she said.

  “I wish I could say the same,” he said, dryly.

  “You like being at home. You can't fool me,” she said.

  “Maybe.” She heard the clinking of the ice in his glass again. “But I'd rather be with you.”

  “Too bad. You'll just have to suffer in silence while Miranda works her hardest to make the season bright,” she said. He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. She felt a flutter in her stomach as if he was right next to her, his face close to her ear.

  “I love you,” he whispered. She sighed. Hearing him say that would never get old.

  “I know,” she murmured.

  “Don't forget, while you're so far away.”

  “I won't.” She pressed a finger to her lips, imagining his touch there. She remembered the last night they were together, how he made love to her like his life depended on it. She felt it deep within her, and between her legs.

  “When you get back, I'll show you how much. Over and over.”

  “How will you show me?” she heard herself saying, despite the fact that she was a few feet from the embarrassment of having her 87-year-old Granny hear her. He chuckled again.

  “Damn, woman. I'm so fucking hard over here, just from the sound of your voice,” he said. “Are you wet for me?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, pressing her hand against the windowpane.

  “I want to fuck your wet pussy with my hard cock. Fast and deep. I want to hear you scream my name. I want to suck your tits while I fuck you. Does that sound good?”

  “Absolutely,” she breathed, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

  “What are you doing?” Toni's voice broke through the lust that clouded Annata's brain. She stood up straight and cleared her throat. “Granny sent me out here to see what you were up to.” Annata held the phone away from her ear.

  “Can I get a minute, please?” Annata could hear the shake in her voice. Toni narrowed her eyes, the gears turning in her head. Then she turned to head back to the kitchen. “Toni! Plastic wrap, top shelf. For the pie crust.” Annata pointed out the plastic wrap for Toni, who grabbed it, giving her a look. When her sister went back inside, Annata let out a sigh. “Sorry,” she said. Christy let out a breath.

  “You have to go?” He sounded so sad, she felt a clench in her heart.

  “Yes, but I'll call you later. We can pick up where we left off.” She felt a smile tug at her lips, thinking of having phone sex with Christy in the twin bed upstairs.

  “You promise?” he asked.

  “I promise.”

  “Okay,” he said, the lightness back in in his voice. “I'll be waiting, cock in hand, for your call.” Rolling her eyes, she hung up the phone and made her way back to the kitchen.

  ***

  Annata watched her parents' BMW disappear down her grandmother's long dusty driveway. They would be back tomorrow, on Christmas morning, but it was still sad watching them go. Being home made her melancholy as much as it made her happy. Being away from her family was almost harder after being near them again. With a sigh, Annata closed the door and locked the deadbolt. Ella Fitzgerald's “What are you doing New Year's Eve?” played on the radio in the living room, echoing through the dark house. The lights on the tree blinked, creating colorful shadows on the wall. Annata stopped in the doorway and noticed her grandmother sitting in alone in the semi-dark.

  “Granny, dinner was amazing. Thank you,” she said.

  “You need some meat on your bones. You and your sister both.” Granny waved a hand dismissively. “But it was good, wasn't it? That ham came out better than I thought it would.”

  “It's always good, and you know it,” Annata said, with a laugh.

  “Come on, now, sit down. Don't hover. You're making me nervous.” Granny pointed to the chair beside her, and Annata obediently sat down. They sat for a bit, not talking. Granny hummed along with Ella, her hands resting on her lap.

  “What are you thinking about?” Annata said, finally breaking the silence.

  “Nothing much,” Granny said, although her eyes said different. “I'm so glad you girls came to see your tired old grandma. It's like a breeze of fresh air around here.” Annata felt a squeeze in her heart, realizing her grandmothe
r might be feeling lonely in the big old house.

  “I'm sorry it took me so long to come visit. I get caught up in the work.” Annata shrugged, feeling guilty and helpless at the same time. She knew her grandma would never leave the house, despite her loneliness. Granny waved a hand again.

  “All you kids are busy. Your momma and daddy come to dinner every Sunday. Gives me something to look forward to.” Granny stared at the tree. “You think my Vivvy will call tomorrow?” Annata sighed, hoping her grandmother wasn't getting her hopes up to hear from Vivica. Granny always held a strong attachment to Vivica, after having raised her for part of her childhood. No matter what Vivica did, Granny never judged her. Annata hoped Vivica, wherever she was, appreciated that.

  “I'm sure she will,” she said, softly.

  “And Holland, did you see the new picture he sent? He looks so much like his daddy it takes my breath away.” Granny opened the drawer in the table next to her chair and dug around for a bit before holding out a photograph. Annata took it and smiled. Holland, so manly and tall in his uniform, stood in the middle of a desert, a German Shepherd at his side. “Looks just like my Richard, don't he?”

  “He does,” Annata said, handing the picture back.

  “He'll call if he can. He's a good boy.” Granny kissed her fingers, then placed them over Holland's face. “No thanks to that mother of his. If it was up to her, he'd be rolling around in the gutter right now, with her.”

  Annata sighed, used to the vitriol her grandmother held for Holland and Vivica's mother, Cassandra. “Granny, you want some decaf or tea? I'll make you some.” Annata tried to change the subject.

  “She ruined Richard's life, she did. He was so in love with that little Vietnam girl, no one could tell him different. Not me, not his daddy.” Granny shook her head, sadly. “She took him away from his family. Took him away from everything he knew. I said, Richie, why does she want to take all of you? She wanted everything, and didn't leave any for anyone else. That's not love, I told him. Love doesn't take away, it gives.” Granny shrugged, her slight shoulders going up and down under her thick sweater. She worked her hands, messaging her knuckles, agitated. “He let himself go. And it killed him.”